The devil is never as black as he is painted.
Of course, the next afternoon, Alex trotted off alone to the gypsies, smug as ever. Since he borrowed the costume, and I didn't have to spend a single penny on his ridiculous Halloween escapade, I waved him off with the greatest peace of mind.
That peace of mind lasted exactly until he got back from Luna's. Along with the costume, he triumphantly handed me a small container of face paint with my name scrawled across it in an annoyingly cheerful script.
Alex, naturally, was grinning like a madman at my increasingly sour expression.
"Whose idea was this?" I demanded, trying to peel some answer from his smug face, but all I got was a toothy grin.
"Get dressed, Shay," he said, already bounding up the stairs. "Izzi needs our support!"
I stared after him, baffled. Years later, I'd discover he used the same line on Izzi to coax her into attending the party. Who knew Alex had the scheming skills of a sly fox?
Left with no choice, I rummaged through my minimal supplies and settled on a vampire costume. After all, what could be scarier than a vampire on the brink of combustion?
For the finishing touch, I crafted a second set of vampire teeth from paper, dabbing them with yellow face paint for that extra gross factor. I practiced opening my mouth wide enough to reveal my homemade fangs. Perfect!
Next, I glued paper towels across my neck and face, haphazardly plastering over them before slathering on black paste. One final piece remained—the fake blood.
My gaze locked onto the little demon cat, who, with uncanny timing, snatched the bottle of fake blood right from under my nose. The feline abomination paused, eyes gleaming with wicked intent, before turning ever so slowly to meet my gaze, all the malice of a thousand curses crammed into its tiny body.
"If you give it back now, I'll only half-kill you," I offered, extending a hand like I was brokering a peace deal with a sworn enemy.
The cat, of course, had other plans. In an instant, it leaped off the table, prancing away with a grace that mocked me. And thus, the chaos began.
I chased the furry terrorist all over the house, catching falling cups, a rogue vase, and a teetering coffee pot. Each object hurled or knocked over in the feline's path seemed to laugh at my plight as I desperately tried to capture the little fiend.
"You son of a bitch!"
I yelled, darting after the cat, who, with every sprint, seemed more determined to wreak havoc.
It wasn't until Alex appeared at the door, blissfully unaware of my plight, that the furry menace finally found an escape route.
"What are you doing?" Alex asked, bewildered, as I skidded to a halt, arms laden with cups, a coffee pot, a lamp, and my phones.
"I could ask the same," I snapped, glowering at him. "That wretched cat ran off with my fake blood!" I growled, my voice a mix of fury and exasperation.
Alex muttered something that sounded suspiciously like amusement. I shoved the pile of salvaged items into his arms, pointing an accusatory finger at the now-closed door, as if the wooden planks were the root of all my problems.
"The pest stole my fake blood!" I reiterated, seething.
"Your costume is great without it," Alex offered, attempting to placate me with a compliment.
His attempt, unsurprisingly, failed miserably.
"Ungrateful pest!" I snarled. "Next time, I'll catch it and rip its spine out!"
Alex gave me a disapproving look, but I couldn't have cared less. The next time, the demon cat wouldn't be so lucky.
(...)
A few hours later, I found myself navigating through a noisy room that reeked of alcohol and sweaty costumes.
The first familiar face I spotted was Coffee, who had strategically positioned herself near the edge of the crowd, clearly waiting. Relief flashed in her eyes the moment she saw us enter, as if silently thanking the heavens she wouldn't have to endure this social nightmare—known to most as a Halloween party—alone.
She was clad in a surprisingly short black skirt, her legs sheathed in dark stockings. But any attempt at seduction was instantly undermined by the adorable, utterly un-sexy shoes she'd chosen. Topping off her ensemble was a slightly oversized cape, which I was certain she had swiped from her father. Her hair was swept back, revealing a face as pale as porcelain, complete with a thin trail of fake blood from her lips to her chin. A pair of plastic vampire teeth gleamed when she spoke.
Oh, how delightfully original.
She gave me a knowing look, easily identifying my costume but choosing to say nothing. Despite both of us dressing as vampires, the differences were stark.
Before we could exchange more than a glance, Alice approached, his hair a vivid ginger.
"Ron Weasley?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Alice nodded. "Venom?"
I stared at him, aghast.
"I'm a vampire," I corrected, clearly offended.
"Then why is half your face and neck black?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"Because I'm a vampire burning to a crisp!" I snapped, my patience already wearing thin.
Moments later, Moses joined our little group, sporting a pointed hat, a robe, and a magic wand. His eyes widened when he saw me, then lit up with recognition. At the time, I figured he saw Venom in my costume. Only later did I realize just how mistaken I was.
Meanwhile, Alex had reached a level of drunken divinity, teleporting across the room in a series of wild dances that could only be described as ridiculous. I watched him from a distance, sighing deeply as I downed another drink.
I was far too sober for this nonsense.
Alice, meanwhile, was valiantly trying to fend off the occasional girl who drifted toward him, but his overly polite refusals seemed to have the opposite effect. Eventually, he gave up and drifted away from us, likely seeking refuge. Even Moses, after knocking back a hefty shot of vodka, dramatically slapped his cheeks as if gearing up for the fight of his life. Then, with a determined stride, he plunged into the writhing crowd—a true kamikaze mission.
I, on the other hand, was on a quest to get outrageously drunk, hoping it would help me endure the chaos around me. My eyes, now devoid of life, were fixed on Alex, who was gleefully leaping, spinning, and raving with reckless abandon. At one point, his spinning antics made my head spin, though it could have been the result of the copious amounts of alcohol I'd consumed while standing in one spot for half an hour.
Every now and then, Alex would barrel over to me, cackling like a madman, thrusting another drink into my hand before disappearing back into the throng. His enthusiasm was relentless, and despite his best efforts, I remained resolute, sipping stoically and refusing to join the madness.
Coffee stood by my side, sipping her drink with an air of disbelief as she observed the crowd. Her approach to drinking was in stark contrast to mine—she'd been nursing the same drink since the party began. It wasn't that I was concerned—vampires could handle their alcohol—she simply had no desire to overindulge. I respected that and left her to her own pace.
As I pondered the absurdity of it all, analyzing the drinking habits of vampires, I noticed my body had started swaying to the music. Some idiotic Katy Perry song blared through the speakers. Normally, the terrible music would have grated on my nerves, but in my current state, it barely registered. In fact, I found myself moving to the beat.
Before I knew it, I was bouncing alongside Alex, a slow, deranged grin spreading across my face. I spun a few girls who had wandered my way, and to my surprise, I didn't cringe when they kept dancing with me, clearly wanting more.
And then, as if by divine intervention, a world-destroying idea took root in my alcohol-addled brain. I swayed over to Alex, who was grinning like a wolf sensing prey. It was as if he could read my thoughts—or maybe he just knew me too well. I leaned in and whispered my brilliant yet utterly reckless plan. Alex's head bobbed up and down with such enthusiasm I feared it might pop off. Nothing, however, could dampen my spirits at that moment.
We made our way toward the unsuspecting vampire girl. Coffee watched me approach with a calm expression. If she had any inkling of my intentions, she would have bolted. Instead, she stared at me, bemused, and said, "Who are you, and where has Shay gone?"
I just laughed, placing a hand on Coffee's wrist. Her eyes widened in realization, and she paled even further. She must have guessed my plan. Alex, grinning like a maniac, grabbed her other hand, and together, we dragged her into the swirling crowd, ignoring her protests. We released her in the middle of the dance floor, where Alex and I immediately broke into wild dancing.
For a moment, Coffee stood frozen in shock, her wide eyes scanning the chaos around her as if she couldn't believe what was happening. Then I saw it—a spark of determination flickering in her gaze. She was going to bolt.
Grinning, I seized her hand and spun her around before she could make her escape. Every time she tried to slip away, I'd catch her, twirl her, and dance, foiling her attempts. Fear was etched on her face, but since I was pretty sure no one had ever died from dancing, I didn't let go.
The music slowed, and Alex vanished into the crowd. As couples around us drew closer, I, in a reckless bout of lunacy, pulled Coffee toward me. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, blinked up at me. Seizing the moment, I guided her movements. We couldn't just stand there awkwardly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a Deadpool costume—Alex, still frolicking, blissfully unaware of the tempo change.
"What are you doing?" Coffee demanded, her voice sharp. "Let go of me!"
"It's just a dance," I grinned. "It won't hurt at all."
Her expression clearly indicated she disagreed. Yet, she didn't make a scene or attempt to wriggle out of my grasp, which surprised me. Instead, I could almost see the gears in her head turning, likely calculating how many seconds remained of this torturous slow song. We swayed together for a while, the tranquil moment marred only by Alex's continued enthusiastic bouncing in the background.
I glanced down at the girl in my arms. Under the haze of alcohol, she seemed oddly appealing—if only she weren't one of my friends…
"Don't even think about it," Coffee growled through gritted teeth.
I shrugged, tearing my gaze away from her.
"You're drunk, you idiot," she hissed, her tone exasperated.
"It feels great," I replied, meeting her eyes. "Maybe you should try it sometime."
As the song ended, Coffee deftly slipped from my grasp and, as though fleeing for her life, darted toward a corner of the room.
"Thanks for the dance!" I called after her, a satisfied smirk playing on my lips.
She stopped and turned back, her expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance. I winked at her before turning back to the crowd, ready to seek out my next victim.
(...)
The next morning, I woke up with a headache that felt like a construction crew had set up shop in my skull. I groaned, squinting at the sunlight assaulting me through the window, desperately hoping that the previous night had been a collective hallucination and that no one else would remember it either.
I grabbed my phone to check the time, but instead of the solace of a blank screen, I was greeted by a flood of Facebook notifications. What the hell had happened?
With a sense of impending doom, I opened the messages. Oh gods, I wish I hadn't! The first picture hit me like a slap in the face. There I was, arm-in-arm with a girl I barely recognized, both of us clearly drunk out of our minds. Considering my usual stance on personal space, this was a level of closeness that only severe intoxication could explain.
The next photo was even worse: I was in the middle of a drinking contest, surrounded by a bunch of equally wasted morons, chugging what looked like my tenth beer. How did this happen? And why did I look like I was enjoying it?
Then came the pièce de résistance: a picture of me draped around Alex's neck like some kind of inebriated scarf. My God, why was I like this?
Even Alice had joined the photo parade, but mercifully, he spared me any captions or commentary. He simply forwarded a photo of me on stage. Oh, right. I had won the costume contest. Of course, I had.
To make matters worse, everyone thought I was dressed as Venom, which was only mildly insulting since I had been aiming for "vampire caught in a tanning booth." Still, when they asked what my costume was, I had mumbled "Venom" with all the enthusiasm of someone surrendering to fate. But wait—what happened to the prize? The glorious cake I had won?
The answer came swiftly in the next batch of pictures: Alex, Alice, and I were neck-deep in that very cake. Alice looked like he was contemplating the meaning of life, or perhaps how he'd gotten involved in this mess. Alex, naturally, was laughing like a maniac, and there I was, grinning wickedly as if this was the best idea ever.
How could this have happened? My cake!
I collapsed back into bed, deciding that, nope, school wasn't happening today. With a sigh, I opened the Kaleidoscope app. My eyes squinted at the screen—something was off. The articles were a jumble of incomprehensible text. I blinked repeatedly, hoping it was just some residual hangover haze. Nope. Still gibberish.
"What the... am I still drunk?" I muttered, sitting up. I took another glance at the screen. The headline blared:
[Strange Weather Anomalies Reported Around the World]
I rubbed my eyes, groaning.
Lately, Lordling had been cutting back on our meetings, and now, more than ever, I wished I could ask him why everything looked like mirror writing. It wasn't the first time. I'd noticed it on the bus once, when the stop display looked like a cryptic riddle, and again when my teacher scribbled on the blackboard. It was unsettling, to say the least.
After resting a bit longer, I reluctantly got ready for school. My enthusiasm for learning was at an all-time low, but what choice did I have?
To my surprise, on the way there, I was greeted by more people than I could handle.
"Hi!" chirped a girl I was pretty sure I'd never seen before, flashing a grin so wide it could rival the Cheshire Cat.
Then another girl waved enthusiastically. I vaguely remembered dancing with her a few times, so, not wanting to be rude, I waved back.
"Party was awesome!" a kid hollered as he slapped my raised hand in a surprise high-five. I barely had time to react, let alone process what was happening.
Is this real life?
"Yeah!" Another guy swaggered up and, before I could even blink, slung his arm around my neck like we were lifelong pals. "I'm having a party next week. You have to come!"
I peeled his arm off me like I was handling a clingy octopus and walked away without a word. Could this morning get any worse?!
Fortunately, nothing out of the ordinary happened that day—well, apart from Mose's usual antics, of course. The guy seemed determined to befriend either me or Alex, though he wisely steered clear of Coffee. She wasn't exactly known for her warm welcome.
It gradually became routine to find Mose flopping down beside us, like a loyal but clumsy puppy. At this point, I didn't even blink when he dramatically sprawled on the floor in front of me. I simply stepped over him, carrying on with my day. His other antics usually involved him buying a hot chocolate from the vending machine, only to immediately burn his tongue or spill it all over himself. Each time, I just sighed in quiet resignation.